


The Red Queens of Hell's Kitchen (DISCONTINUED)

by CastleAndMurdock



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Mob, Assassins & Hitmen, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Matt Murdock, Drug Dealing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Matt and Foggy aren't lawyering, Matt/Elektra, Minor Original Character(s), Murderers, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Redemption, Told in short episodes that slowly move the plot along, Trish Walker/Will Simpson, Wilson Fisk/Vanessa, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastleAndMurdock/pseuds/CastleAndMurdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1930's Hell's Kitchen, the drug trade is in its prime, and seemingly everyone is in the crime business. With three rival gangs at war, led by the most ruthless and brutal women only this city can offer, a young Karen Page gets reluctantly spun up in their web of chaos. Making an unlikely ally in local private investigator, Jessica Jones, the two women and their associates must work together to put an end to the violent reign of terror being unleashed over their city before any more blood can be shed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wake Up Call

_Hell's Kitchen, New York. January 5th, 1935_

 

Karen Page didn't know that she was falling asleep until she felt the sensation that she was about to fall off the top of a very tall building. Her bright blue eyes shot open as her hands reached out to the desk in front of her. She steadied herself, quickly coming to the realization that she was safe in her tiny office and behind her desk. She sighed as she rubbed at her tired eyes. _'If Ellison makes me work one more late night...'_ she thought bitterly. Karen looked down at the stack of papers that still needed to be searched through or signed or burned for all she cared. With another sigh, Karen stood up, grabbed her handbag and coat from the back of her chair, and headed towards the door. She gave a friendly wave to the receptionist, who was just arriving, before stepping out into the cold. She quickly pulled her coat on as she started to walk in the direction of her apartment. It had to have been nearly six in the morning by now. Most people were heading to work, not waking up at their desks and walking home in the dark. A chill of wind blew right through her and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Karen walked faster, with promises of warmth and sleep pulling her closer to home.

She caught the sight of a familiar face standing at the front door of the butcher's shop. She nearly didn't recognize him with his heavy coat on and scarf wrapped nearly up to his eyes.

"Foggy?" Karen called through the cold wind. A bundled up Foggy Nelson turned to her, the keys to the shop in his gloved hand.

"Oh, hi Miss Page!" he mumbled cheerily through his scarf. He pulled it away from his face, letting the bundle loose around his neck. "What are you doing up so early?" he asked.

"I never really slept, actually." she smiled. "I'm heading home from work." Foggy shook his head, slipping the keys into his coat pocket.

"Sounds like you need a better job, Miss Page." he laughed. Karen laughed back in response.

"Or just a new boss," she joked. "Why are you so bundled up? You could barely see with that on your face." Foggy laughed again, nervously this time.

"My mother thinks it's the end of days again, she didn't want me to come home as a block of ice." he said, his hand turned the door knob. "Would you like to come in? It's probably no warmer in the shop, but at least there's no wind." Karen shook her head politely.

"Oh, maybe some other time, Foggy. I should really head home, but thanks." Foggy nodded, his smile saying his goodbye for him as he walked inside. Left out in the cold, Karen continued her journey through the freshly fallen snow, only a few short blocks away from her apartment building. Another force of wind nearly knocked her off her feet, but she managed to stay standing. Only five more blocks. _'I really should have taken a cab."_ she thought. Four more blocks. People passed by her on the street on their way to work, dumb enough to brave the cold like she had been. But she could make it. Three more blocks. The diner came up on her left, a few patrons sat at the bar with steaming coffee cups in front of them. Karen was tempted, but she did not stop. Two more blocks. She thought about going back, opening the doors to the fresh smell of coffee and breakfast food and warmth, sitting down at the bar or in a booth with people talking around her. She'd order coffee and it would be the best damn coffee Karen Page had ever had. Karen was just about to turn back when she slammed full force into something in front of her.

She stumbled back, a bit stunned by the impact. With only a block left to go, she looked up to see a huge man in all black, towering above her, with no one else in sight to help her.

***

Karen Page was not the only person in Hell's Kitchen to wake up at their desk that morning. What little sun was out was just beginning to shine through the frosted over window as Jessica Jones, local private investigator at Alias Investigations, stirred in her sleep. She was leaning halfway over her desk, her arm outstretched under her head. Her hand rolled over an overturned glass. The sharp smell of whiskey coaxed her awake, her dark eyes blinking into the light. The glass had spilled whiskey all over the papers she was half laying on, the light brown liquid seeped into the pages containing cases she never planned on taking in the first place. She sat up in her chair and stretched her arms out above her head, silently promising herself that she'd never work late ever again under the influence of alcohol. Though it was just another promise she'd break later with another promise of doing better tomorrow. Tomorrow was Jessica's favorite excuse. 

Jessica took the glass and set it back up. She closed her eyes and listened for a few moments. If she didn't hear it, she didn't need another drink. When she heard nothing but the sound of cars outside and snow softly pelting against the window as it fell, she quickly stood up, taking the wet papers from the desk and made her way into the kitchen to hang them up to dry. As she was hanging the last page, a frantic knocking sound startled her fully awake. Jessica sighed, frustrated, as she walked to her front door. She could make out a dark silhouette behind the frosted glass in the middle of the door, it's hand raised to knock again. Jessica flung it open before the woman's hand could hit the glass again. Jessica was about to tell her off, to come back when the sun was actually out and this awful snow melted away, but when her eyes met the woman in her doorway, Jessica froze. She had never seen her before in her life, but the dark, rich purple of the woman's dress stunned the investigator into silence for a solid few seconds. The woman's hand slowly dropped to her side.

"Um, excuse me, but are you Jessica Jones?" the woman asked kindly.

"Who wants to know?" Jessica replied sharply, shaking away the bad feeling that was running down her spine.

"My name is Alice Peabody, I heard that you're really good at finding people." the woman in purple said, both of her white gloved hands clutched her handbag in front of her.

"I guess you could say that." Jessica said, her grip on the door frame tightened.

"You see, my husband hasn't come home in a few days, almost a week actually. I have a very bad feeling that he's been working for some bad people, and well, I thought that maybe you could help me." Alice said, the sour sound of worry buried itself deep into her voice. The wood of the door frame cracked and splintered under Jessica's grip, but she moved to the side and allowed Alice to come inside.

"Make it quick." Jessica said, the door closing lightly behind her.

"Yes of course," Alice said, as Jessica followed her inside. "I think my husband has been working for one of the Queens."

"The Red Queens?" Jessica asked. Alice nodded. "How do you know?"

"He had been acting suspicious, coming home at odd hours. I thought he was cheating, so I followed him. I followed him to this dive bar, my husband never goes to dive bars. Well, he was sitting with this man, talking to him, like he knew him. This man looked horrible, all bruised and cut up, he had tattoos too, if that helps." Jessica gestured for Alice to sit down.

"How do you know this guy was working for one of the Red Queens? He just sounds like trash you'd normally see in a dive bar, trust me." Alice shook her head, she set her handbag down on her lap.

"I've seen him before, in the papers that is. He had a funny name, foreign. But he has connections to one of the Red Queens, I know it, Miss Jones. Please, my Robert is in danger, you have to help me. I can't keep lying to my children about where their father has gone. It's not like Robert to do this. I'll pay you very well." Alice pleaded, tears threatening to spill from her aging eyes. Jessica looked down, mulling the thought over in her mind.

"All right, I'll do it." she said reluctantly. Alice's eyes lit up, she stood up quickly, her handbag flew to the ground. She wrapped Jessica up in her arms, a mother's hug.

"Oh, thank you Miss Jones!" she said. "You won't regret this!" Jessica leaned out of the hug, taking Alice's hands into her own.

"Don't mention it," Jessica began. "But you have to get me a picture of this guy, from the papers. There's a lot of tattooed scum roaming these streets, Mrs. Peabody." Alice nodded as Jessica released her. She picked up her handbag from the floor and headed towards the door.

"I'll do my best," she said, the worry hitting her voice again. And with that, Mrs. Peabody left, leaving Jessica alone once again. Jessica went back to bed, doubtful that she'd ever see that woman ever again.


	2. When Hell Freezes Over

Hell's Kitchen, New York. January 5th, 1935

 

"Is that what they're calling us?" Vanessa Fisk said from her chair with a laugh, a folded newspaper in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other. " _The Red Queens?_ Are they running out of names for criminals these days?" Vanessa dropped the paper down on the table beside her and raised up the hand holding the cigarette. A tall, thin man approached her from the entryway. He pulled a lighter from his coat pocket and held out the flame to her. She lit the cigarette and pulled it away as he closed the lighter. "Thank you, Wesley." she said, her eyes stared down at the orange glow in her hand. Wesley nodded in response, he tucked the lighter back into his suit pocket.

"It does seem that way, Mrs. Fisk. The newspapers aren't as original with names as they used to be." Wesley said. Vanessa turned her head up to look at him, the dim lamp in between them cast ghoulish shadows over his face.

"How many times now have I told you, Wesley? You are allowed to call me by name." she scolded him. Wesley smiled.

"I'm afraid that I am under strict orders from your husband, Mrs. Fisk. It would be very impolite to refer to you by your first name." he replied, his hands folded behind his back. Vanessa took a deep breath of smoke and let it back out.

"My husband isn't the one who calls the shots around here, Mr. Wesley." she corrected him. Her eyes rested over the newspaper again. "Do they really think that we're all working together? _A happy little drug family?_ " Wesley picked the paper up and inspected it under the lamp.

"We do have our connections." he stated, his eyes scanning over the print through his glasses. "But working together? Definitely not."

"Those other two, think they own this city, Wesley." Vanessa said, inhaling another puff of smoke. Wesley dropped the paper back down as she exhaled.

"They'll learn soon enough, _Mrs. Fisk..._ " he replied. She glared at him through the lamp light for his disobedience but cracked a smile.

"Do I have any plans this evening?" she asked, changing the subject. Wesley took a notebook from his suit pocket and flipped through it.

"You have a meeting this morning, and then dinner at seven tonight with Mr. Fisk." he read. Vanessa squeezed her eyes closed and groaned.

"A meeting with _who?_ " she asked sharply.

"The Russians." he confirmed.

"Ugh." she grumbled, and extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table beside her. "Those morons never listen to a word I say, they only take orders from Wilson."

"I could always take care of it for you, Mrs. Fisk. You could spend more time with Mr. Fisk this afternoon, I'll meet with the Russians." Vanessa looked relieved.

"That would be perfect, thank you Wesley." she said as she stood up. She gave him a pat on the shoulder as she walked past him and towards the door. Vanessa stopped and turned back to him. "What is it that they want?" she asked. Wesley adjusted his glasses and took a step towards her.

"Mr. Fisk wanted you to meet with them, in regards of finding a person of interest, as your husband was not able to make it to the meeting himself."

"I love it when Wilson gives orders, it's cute." she smiled to herself. "And you'll take care of those two idiots for me?" she added. Wesley nodded in agreement.

"Of course Mrs. Fisk, leave it to me." Vanessa returned his nod and left. Wesley could hear her high heels click down the hallway to her bedroom. When he heard the door close, the assistant turned back to the side table. He took a folder from it that was under the newspaper and tucked it under his arm. He clicked off the lamp and made his way downstairs. He sighed to himself as he walked out of the penthouse and headed to the building's elevator. He pressed the call button with more force than was necessary. He hated the Russians. Not all of them of course, just these two in particular. It would take him all night to explain to them which person they would be looking out for. That not just anyone would do, that they needed this specific...person of interest. He would be very beneficial to not only their company, but their underground operations as well. But in order to find him, Wesley would first have to put his pride away and talk it out with the brothers, make them a good deal in exchange for this man's allegiance. He _hated_ them. But if he could save Mrs. Fisk the misfortune of having to deal with them herself, then he was more than happy to please.

Wesley took the elevator to the ground floor, the folder now safely tucked into his jacket against his chest. He stepped out into the cold, the sun just starting to rise over the frozen city. The file was safe, Mrs. Fisk was happy, and James Wesley had work to do.

***

Jessica Jones was once again disturbed from her sleep as another knock sounded off at her front door. She rolled out of bed with a huff after letting the person knock for a good five minutes. She stomped across the floor and nearly ripped the door from it's hinges.

"I knew you were home." the person said. "Did I wake you?"

"What do you want, Malcolm?" Jessica asked. He peeked inside over her shoulder.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" he asked carefully.

"Of course not." she replied smartly. "Would you like to come in?" Malcolm nodded and brushed past her. Jessica sighed and let the door close.

"I have to talk to you." Malcolm said nervously, turning to face her.

"So does everyone else, apparently." Malcolm ignored her and sat down.

"I'm hearing it again." he said simply. Jessica immediately dropped the sarcasm and sat down across from him.

"No you're not." she said, emotionless.

"Yes I am, I can hear it. _I can hear him._ It's never when I'm with others, only when I'm alone... I can hear him in my sleep, he never stops talking to me, Jessica." Malcolm's eyes grew wide with panic.

"You're on drugs, Malcolm." Jessica answered.

"I know. They drown him out." he replied. "He's still there, but he's muffled. And besides, you drink to forget, you can't tell me that you don't still hear him too." Jessica closed her eyes tightly. "You still hear him, don't you?" he asked. Her eyes fluttered back open.

"I'm just tired, Malcolm. You woke me up." Jessica said. She stood up abruptly and turned away from him.

"It hasn't been that long, you know. You're just as damaged by what he did as the rest of us are."

"He's dead, it doesn't matter anymore." Malcolm sighed.

"You haven't left your apartment since it happened. I have my ways of dealing with it, you need to find yours." he said, as he stood up and walked to the door.

"I just wanted you to know, I thought maybe we could get through it together." Malcolm said, the door closed behind him. When he left, Jessica turned to the frost covered window. She looked out through the rippled ice and realized just how long it had been since she'd been out there. Alice popped into her mind and though she tried to shake her out, the woman in the purple dress wouldn't leave. She stomped off to her bedroom and got properly dressed for the first time in a while. She pulled on her coat and walked out the door before she could talk herself out of it.

***

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" Karen said to the man she had bumped into. The man had been unfazed by her, having been lost in thought when she knocked into him. He was quiet, but he was big and scary and Karen suddenly remembered the switchblade she still kept in her bag, if she needed it.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am." he said, his voice was deep, like he hadn't spoken in some time. His hands were in his pockets and he was mean looking, but he seemed nice enough. He had just been standing in the middle of the sidewalk, large flakes of snow covered his heavy black coat. Karen reached out to put her hand on his shoulder in apology. The man flinched back.

"I-I'm really sorry." she said again. He made no reply, and continued to stare across the street. Karen looked closer at his face. He had a cut that stretched from his temple to his jaw that was starting to open up again, a drop of blood slowly dripped down his neck. "You're bleeding..." she said softly. A chill of wind whipped around them as the sun started to rise. Karen huddled deeper into her coat while he stood there.

"It happens." he replied. He still hadn't looked at her and he didn't even know he was bleeding again until she had said so. The stitches he had sewn in himself were crooked and a few had popped since then.

"How long have you been standing out here?" she asked. He turned and looked down at the pretty blonde woman who looked like she was about to blow away in the wind. He turned back to look across the street again, not wanting her to get a good look at him.

"A while." he answered shortly. Karen shivered.

"It's freezing out here," she began. "And it doesn't look like the sun is gonna stay out too long. What's your name?" He hesitated and hoped that she'd just take the hint and go away.

"Frank." he said.

"I'm Karen," she smiled. "You should really get that cut seen about. The hospital isn't far-"

"I don't go to hospitals." Frank said, cutting her off.

"I could help, if you don't mind, that is. My brother used to get into fights, well, he got beat up a lot. I have a lot of experience in sewing people back together again." she said. 

"Why do you care so much, Lady? I'm just some guy on the street." he said rudely, making the mistake of looking her in the eye. She looked small and hopeful and cold.

"I like to help people and you looked like you needed help." He snapped his dark eyes away from her and thought it over.

"I don't want to be no trouble." he said. Karen shook her head.

"No trouble." she smiled again. "I live right up there, it's just a block." Frank nodded, took one last look at the bar across the street and followed Karen home.

***

"It really does look like Hell finally froze over."

"Is it snowing again?" Elektra Natchios looked away from the window to glance over her shoulder.

"Starting to." she said. "The sun is coming up, but I think the snow is here to stay, Matthew." Matt Murdock walked over to where she was sitting by the window. She took his hand and pressed it against the icy glass. "It's funny, don't you think?" she asked him.

"What is?" he replied, as he pulled his hand from the glass. He knelt down, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"It's funny that Hell's Kitchen is freezing over, when I'm about to make it burn." she said. Matt smiled as she took his glasses off and kissed him. "And once this place is up in flames," Elektra began as she pulled her lips away, leaving red marks in their wake. "It'll be the perfect place for the Devil to call home." Matt laughed lowly and kissed her again. His Red Queen was going rule over her Kingdom, and she had the Devil on a leash.


	3. Stitches

Hell's Kitchen, New York. January 5th, 1935

 

James Wesley had the folder in his jacket and a gun in his pocket. He managed to surpass what little security Veles Taxi had to offer in broad daylight. Some of the men there knew his face and knew better than to talk to him, or even look his way, in fear that one of the brothers would put them back in line, or that Mr. and Mrs. Fisk would somehow get involved. He walked right inside, where men were working on the cars. Almost every eye in the room turned to see who was paying them a visit, their hands going for the guns on their belts, but quickly averted back their tasks before the tall man caught them staring. James Wesley knew this was a cover for their illegal operations, he didn't care, it wasn't of interest to him or to his employers. He was given his order, and he was going to carry it out. He saw the blond one near the back of the room yelling at one of the men, he hadn't noticed Wesley yet. Wesley didn't bother to wait for their argument to end. He marched right up two them, folded his hands behind his back and to the blond man he said, "Get your brother, Vladimir, we need to talk." Vladimir looked angry, he sent a sharp glare to his worker who scurried back to work as fast as he could without another word.

"You don't give orders to me, _Lap Dog._ " the Russian man said to Wesley, he was determined to let any remaining anger he had for his worker out onto the assistant.

"I'm not the one giving the orders." Wesley said calmly, as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the folder, he held it up for Vladimir to see. Vladimir scowled and shoved Wesley's arm back down.

"Tell, Mr. Fisk that we will no longer be doing his shit work." the Russian spat as he turned and started to walk away.

" _My employers..._ will see to it that this plays out to your advantage, Mr. Ranskahov. And to your brother's." Wesley smiled and adjusted his glasses. He smile was well rehearsed and he used it often. Vladimir turned back to face him, his scowl was replaced by a look of curiosity, though the anger lingered.

"How? Tell me now, or leave." Vladimir said, nodding his head toward the exit.

"We'll settle everything once you accept the job. _Now run along like a good little pup,_ and get your big brother."

***

"Do you do this a lot?" Frank asked, as Karen turned her key into the lock and opened her apartment door.

"Help people?" she replied, as she went inside and held the door open for him.

"Let strange, bloody men into your house." he said, still standing in the building's hallway, not letting himself go any further without her permission.

"You're not strange," she smiled. "But you are still bleeding. Let me help, then you're free to go." Frank hesitated, then nodded and followed her inside. She closed the door and took her coat off, letting it hang on a hook by the door. "I'll go get some supplies, just sit down anywhere." Karen said, as she walked further into the apartment, leaving Frank alone in the living room. The apartment was small and cold, the kitchen and living area taking up the same space. It was perfect for someone as small as Karen, once the place warmed up a little. She came out of the bathroom with a box just as Frank sat down in a chair in the middle of the room. He didn't know why he agreed to this, he could've just stitched himself back up after going to the bar, it's not like he was just going in there for a drink anyway. He was just going to get bloodied up all over again now. He was uncomfortable in this woman's house, thankful that someone was actually being nice to him, but uncomfortable all the same.

"What happened?" Karen said, as she knelt down beside the chair and set the box down on her lap. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Got in a fight." was Frank's quick reply.

"Do you get in a lot of those?" Karen took out what she needed and set the box on the floor beside her.

"When I have to." he said, as she suddenly got closer to him to get a better look at the cut. When had she gotten that close? He kept his eyes straight ahead and didn't even flinch when she started cutting away at the broken stitches. She cleaned up the wound in silence and made sure the bleeding had stopped before she tried sewing it back up. It didn't look nearly as bad now that the blood was gone.

"It's not infected, yet. You've got to take better care of this though, it could have gotten really bad." she said, as she cut the string on the last stitch.

"I've had worse." he mumbled. The right side of his face was on fire, but he didn't dare to tell her that. But it wasn't a lie when he said that he had suffered worse. Karen put a hand under his jaw and turned his head further into the dim sunlight, making sure that she hadn't missed anything.

"You might have a scar, but I don't think it's gonna be that noticeable." she said. "You're free to go, if you want. Just..." she trailed off. "No more fighting, unless you like getting hurt." Frank quickly pulled away from her as he stood up and walked to the door.

"Thanks." he said, before getting out of the apartment as fast as he could. Karen stayed on the floor, cold and tired, her hands covered in blood.

"You're welcome."

***

Jessica Jones hated the cold. She bundled up as best as she could when she left, but it didn't matter, it was as cold as her own heart out here. She had a destination planned, it wasn't far. It wasn't exactly what Malcolm had in mind when he told her to leave the house, but Malcolm didn't have to know. She was tired, and grumpy and needed a drink, and Malcolm could just deal with it. She swung the bar's door open and confidently strode inside. The men at tables stared at her, this wasn't a place for women, women weren't supposed to drink, or leave the house as far as they were concerned. Jessica wasn't concerned at all as she took her place at the bar between two men who quickly moved out of her way.

"Long time, no see, Jones." the bartender said without looking up at her.

"I thought you would prefer it that way, big guy." she said. Luke smiled and poured her up her usual.

"I prefer it when you're here." he said sincerely. Jessica took the drink from him and kept her eyes down. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"I haven't left the house, but I ran out of whiskey and well, here I am." she finally looked up and smiled. She took a drink.

"How've you been?" Luke asked, as he took care of the customer a few seats down from her.

"Better than expected," she lied. She didn't want him to think she was weak. She had taken care of things, she _wasn't weak._ Luke shook his head as he walked back up to her, leaning over the bar.

"You're a real bad liar, Jones." he smiled. He took her hand into his. "I hate to feed your bad habits, but I like seeing you here again." The door opened behind Jessica, but neither of them noticed.

"Aw, come on, I'm a fun drunk." Jessica joked as the man passed by her, again, unnoticed. Luke laughed.

"You _think_ you're a fun drunk." he replied. It wasn't until a chair was knocked over and a gun was cocked did Luke and Jessica finally turn to see him. The man in black stood over a smaller man huddled on the ground under a table, a gun pointed down at him. Luke wasted no time and threw himself across the bar. He roughly tapped the man on the shoulder. "No guns in my bar, pal." he said sternly. The man gave no reply, barely even breathing. The man on the ground hid further under the table, shaking. He already had a bloody patch on his side, though the man with the gun hadn't made a move on him yet. Luke reached out to put a hand on his shoulder with intent on forcing him outside, but as he did, the man pulled the trigger. A bullet pierced the heart of the man under the table before Luke could make a move. The other bar patrons ran for their lives, screaming and fighting to get out first. Luke punched the gunman in the side of the head, the gun dropped, and he effortlessly picked him up by his arm and started dragging him outside. The clean cut on the man's face started bleeding again, the fresh, even stitches popped loose. Jessica was quick to grab his other arm and together they tossed the gunman out the door.

They turned back to see the bar empty and man under the table dead.


	4. Propositions

Hell's Kitchen, New York. January 5th, 1935

 

"It's getting late, are you going out tonight?" Elektra asked, her eyes glanced at the clock above the mantel, it's hands ticked slowly into the evening hours, the fire roaring beneath it.

"I guess so," Matt said, as he walked into the living room where Elektra was. He loosened his tie as he listened to the clock tick away, the small sound pounded into his sensitive ears. "Why? Do you need me for anything tonight?" he asked. Elektra smiled, hoping he would ask.

"I _always_ need you," she said sweetly. "But now that you mention it..." She hopped up from the couch and walked over to Matt. "I need you to make a delivery for me." she purred, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"And, is this an important delivery?" he asked. Elektra nodded.

" _Very_ important." she confirmed, as she slipped his black tie the rest of the way off. She threw it back and it landed silently on the ground somewhere behind her.

"And I assume that I'll be making this delivery whether I like it or not?" Matt asked.

"You'd do anything I asked of you, wouldn't you, Matthew?" she whispered close to his ear. Matt sighed contently and wrapped his arms around her.

" _Anything._ " he whispered back.

"Good." she said, her tone went serious and dark. She took his glasses off and walked to the front door. She returned to him with a medium sized square box and shoved it carelessly into his hands. "Take this one where you took the last one. Leave it with the same man, you know what to do." She smiled wickedly, Matt could sense it. Matt set the cardboard box down and went to their bedroom as Elektra walked back to the couch, her eyes fixated on the clock again. He came back moments later just as the last remnants of the sun set under the horizon. He was dressed in a three piece suit made from heavy red and black cloth, a blood red necktie was tight around his throat. Elektra stood and went to retrieve something beside the apartment's front door. She slipped the masquerade styled mask over his eyes and tied the black ribbons tight around his head. The mask was made of a light metal and stained in a deep crimson red, a deadly sharp horn pointed out from each of his temples.

"All you need is a tail, Matthew." she chuckled. Matt smiled in response as he picked up the box and carried it to the window. The entire city was quickly becoming consumed by the darkness as Elektra opened the window and they both stepped out onto the balcony. Lights shone through the other windows and streetlamps lit up the sidewalks as the sun disappeared and the Devil stepped into the night. Matt sat down on the edge of the railing, his back to the city and the box safely clutched into his arms. "Stay out of trouble." she said, shivering, wisps of frost followed her every word. "I'm too tired to bail you out tonight."

" _Yes, your Highness._ " he smiled, planting a soft kiss to her lips before throwing himself backwards, off the edge and into Hell.

***

"Out of all places, you pick cold dark rooftop?" Vladimir called out to Wesley, as the assistant stepped out into the chill from the door, the night air rolled around him. Wesley ignored him, as he walked through the soft layer of snow on the warehouse's rooftop and stepped up to the older of the two, holding the folder out for him to take. Vladimir was a man who was very easy to offend, and pushed his brother out of the way to take the folder himself. Anatoly rolled his eyes and let him do as he pleased. The blond opened the folder and read through it, flakes of snow landed on the pages inside and melted into the handwritten ink. "Who is this man?" Vladimir asked, looking down at the picture of the man he would be looking for.

"He is someone my employers are very interested in finding, all _you_ need to know is in there." Wesley said, motioning his hand towards the folder. Vladimir squinted down at the page where the snow had bled into the ink, obscuring the next word in the line. The scar that ran down his eye pulled together as he tried to make out the word.

"Then maybe we should deal with your employers." Anatoly cut in. "You are not necessary." Small flakes of snow fell into Wesley's hair and he shook them away as he laughed. The dark haired Russian did not find it funny.

"I believe my employers have already sent your payment, is that right?" the assistant asked. Anatoly nodded slowly, a sharp side smile cut into his face. "Then you two had better get to work." Wesley said. Vladimir laughed and closed the folder, his wild eyes glanced over to his brother.

"We have not yet decided if we are going to take the job." Anatoly stated, as Vladimir handed him the folder. Anatoly opened it and skimmed through all the boring parts. "I know this man." the older brother said, as he picked up the man's picture. "Should be easy to find."

"Good," Wesley replied. "Are we done here?" Anatoly shook his head, the picture rolled around in his tattooed hand.

"Tell your employers we will take job, _if_ they pay double." Anatoly said with a smile. Wesley returned his smile, it practically dripped with malice.

"Fine." Wesley said. "Do it in half the time and we have a deal." Both of the Russian boys smiled this time. Vladimir walked up to Wesley and clapped his hand down onto the taller man's shoulder.

" _Good dog._ " the blond said, and headed off towards the door. Anatoly handed the folder back to Wesley but slipped the picture into his own coat pocket, following close behind his little brother. Wesley waited alone in silence for five minutes before walking to the door himself, making sure that both brothers were gone before he tried to leave. The folder slipped back into his suit pocket as he went inside the dark warehouse. He brushed the snow off his shoulders, checked his watch and made his way to inform his employers of the change in plan.

***

Karen had spent her entire day asleep. She had eventually gotten up off of the floor, washed Frank's blood from her hands and immediately went to bed. She had woken up after sunset in her dark, cold apartment and groggily got out of bed. She looked at the clock on her kitchen wall and sighed. It was just after six in the evening and she needed to be back at work within the hour. She slowly dragged herself back to her room to get dressed. She fixed up her long hair and makeup as best as she could before grabbing her coat and heading downstairs. Karen started walking in the direction of the New York Bulletin offices, she pulled her coat tighter to her skin when the wind whipped around her. She was too busy thinking about that morning and the beaten up man in her apartment to notice the commotion at first. A small crowd of people were gathered around the bar a block from her apartment, a police car pulled away from the bar's sidewalk and drove past her. Curiosity took over as Karen diverted from her original destination and crossed the street to the bar.

She pushed through the crowd, her hand flew down to her coat pocket to check if her notebook and pen were inside, in case this turned out to be a story for the papers. She sighed in relief when she found them and continued to push past the other curious New Yorkers. A tall, dark skinned man in a yellow shirt struggled to calm the crowd, he held his arms out, trying to keep people from going inside. The building's door had been ripped off and a rope was strung across the entryway, probably set up by the owner, to keep people out. The crowd started to diminish when the tall man started getting angry. A dark haired woman ducked under the rope and joined the man outside. She was wearing black pants and not a dress and Karen thought that was odd, yet satisfying in a way. The woman yelled at a man for asking too many questions and the man ran off down the street after she stomped her boot at him. She started to turn away and go inside with the man in yellow.

"Excuse me!" Karen said, rushing after them. "What happened here?" The woman turned back around, disgusted at Karen for asking a question. She was very tired of giving people answers.

"Some guy shot another guy. Shooty guy got thrown out and he disappeared, goodbye." she said, summing it up as best as she could to satisfy the small blonde woman.

"Is he okay?" Karen asked. "The man who was shot?" The woman sighed.

"Dead guy is dead, sorry." she replied, as the man cut the rope and went to retrieve the door. Karen motioned to the door in his hands.

"How did that happen?" she asked.

"Luke got real mad." the woman answered. "Jesus, you ask a lot of questions, don't you, Blondie?" Karen nodded.

"It's my job." she answered, holding her cold hand out. "Karen Page." The woman looked at her like she was crazy. She chuckled to herself and took Karen's hand.

"Jessica Jones. You're freezing by the way." she said, as Karen's hand dropped from her strong grip. "I was just going to get some coffee, wanna come?" Karen nodded, the tip of her nose was red from the cold.

"I'd like that." Karen replied, as Luke hoisted up the door and set it back into place.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this for Camp NaNoWriMo, so expect frequent updates all throughout April. :)


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